


two wrongs make two rights

by thefaceofno



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Art, Bar fights, Blind Date, Fan Art, M/M, art included, heavy on the c/c and b/f, lots of me abusing names, please suspend your disbelief, slurs cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefaceofno/pseuds/thefaceofno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'au where combeferre and courfeyrac are on a blind double date and they hit it off immediately–only they’re not each other’s date.' except not really. this is Misunderstandings and Chance(TM) the fic</p><p>aka, Jehanjolras, the accidental matchmaking agency</p>
            </blockquote>





	two wrongs make two rights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abp/gifts).



> this whole work is just me going ?????????
> 
> hope u like it anna <3
> 
> (based on this post http://bahoreal.tumblr.com/post/109046878006/au-where-combeferre-and-courfeyrac-are-on-a-blind   
> with art here http://bahoreal.tumblr.com/post/136483367381/courferre-holiday-exchange-anna-ferretrade-gave )

“Okay, Jehan. Give me your honest opinion, how do I look?”

“Like you usually do; twinky, cute, and ready for love. Your blind date is gonna love you!”

“What’s his name again?”

“Bahorel, or something. He’s very tall, dark skin, dark hair and he has a beard. The sides of his head are shaved and he said he’d wear something grey.”

Courfeyrac picked up his blue scarf and tied it so tight around his neck he nearly strangled himself, then grabbed the ends and started gently tugging. Jehan, sensing his nerves started to ramble at a faster pace.

“I don’t know, I met him at an indie gig at that tiny place- the boiler room? Anyway, I thought he was sort of your type, so! You and Mr. Whatever are going to date and fall in love and make beautiful non-babies together and-“

“Jehan! Stop rambling, you know you don’t have to keep setting me up on these.”

Jehan grabbed the end of his scarf, and started rubbing it between his fingers.

“I like to see you happy. I know you like going on these casual dates and-“

“Jehan. You’re living vicariously through me again. Of course, I’ll tell you how it goes with Mr. Beardy McHot-“

“That’s not what I said!”

“that’s exactly what you called him yesterday!”

"I’m not the one going on a date with him.”

“No, you’re the one setting me up on a date with him-“ Nerves finally subsiding for both of them, Courfeyrac grinned at Jehan as they subtly checked their phone and grabbed his arm.

“Shit! Courf! You’re gonna be late!” Courfeyrac glanced at his phone, swore and bustled out the door, yelling a quick “Thanks again!” at Jehan as he left.

Jehan yelled after him; “He’ll be looking for you: you’re the one wearing the blue scarf!”

Courfeyrac pulled on the ends of his scarf again and grinned, starting the long walk to the pub.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How do I not have a picture of your guy? He’s great, he’s called Feuilly and he’s doing a bunch of volunteering for Les Amis around the three minimum wage jobs he has- honestly his work ethic is amazing, I wish I-“

“Okay, Enjolras. I’m dating the guy, not you.”

Grantaire looked up from his phone. “And I’m dating you, so chill out about Feuilly maybe?”

Enjolras gave him a reproachful look. “I love you, but Feuilly is-“

“Okay! Tell me about what he looks like, so I’ll be able to recognise him.”

Enjolras pouted at Combeferre.

“I know, you can talk for hours about his voice and the way the sun shines off his hair-“

“Dating. Me.” Grantaire chipped in, not looking up this time.

“But I don’t know anything about him beyond his name and his jobs, and I can’t exactly go up to him and say, hey, do you work 80 hour weeks, where a good portion of that is voluntary work?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and Combeferre knew that if it was down to him, Enjolras would introduce himself asking exactly that. “He has sort of ginger hair, it looks red in the light. He’ll be wearing a blue scarf and he knows you’re wearing grey. I don’t know whether I told him your name, I just said a good friend of mine wanted to meet him for drinks. I definitely told him you have a beard though.” Enjolras said with a laugh.

Combeferre scratched at the scruff he hadn’t had time to shave and sighed internally at all twists of fate. This guy sounds like the perfect person for him and he’s meeting him with a small garden on his chin. But if Feuilly likes beards... Combeferre scratched his chin again, stroking down his cheek to the underside of his neck. It’s growing on him, literally and figuratively. He had been considering keeping it.

Enjolras looked at his watch and pushed Combeferre towards the door. “You can groom later, now you need to get to the pub to meet Feuilly.”

Combeferre turned and smiled at Enjolras, clasping his shoulder. “Thank you. I’ve been too busy moping about being single to actually go on any dates. Have fun tonight, and for god’s sake call me if you need me to be out of the house tonight.”

Enjolras grinned at him and went back into the house to investigate the loud laughter coming from inside.

“-you set Courfeyrac up with Bahorel! Oh my god, he’ll eat him alive!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feuilly tugged the blue scarf down from his adams apple, stretching his neck muscles and feeling the low level anxiety build. When did he become the kind of guy to get set up on a blind date, and forget to ask for a name or photo of the guy first? All he had to go on was tall, dark, handsome, bearded, and a member of Les Amis. And hopefully, the guy knows what he looks like. He tugged the scarf up again, just to make it a bit more obvious. He felt like he was sitting there with a massive target on his back. Behind him, a tall, dark, handsome, and bearded guy started swearing. He turned around, curiosity piqued.

“Well, I am a bit gay, mate.” Tall dark and handsome said to a half drunk man sitting on a barstool.

“At least you’re not a tranny, man.” Barstool guy said, laughing jovially.

“A what.” Barstool guy looked up at tall dark and handsome in confusion.

“Yanno, a tranny. Ya dick’s not where it’s menna be, that kinda fella.”

Tall dark and handsome’s eyes narrowed. “I was meant to be here for a blind date, and I’m sure my date would be good at explaining why you’re wrong, but I’m not so good with words.”

Feuilly looked tall dark and handsome up and down one more time, mentally high fived himself and started to get up, to greet him.

“Whaa-“ Barstool guy started, before tall dark and handsome’s fist met his mouth and he went flying back onto the bar. He flailed his arms a bit, and the guy who was sitting next to him got up, glaring at tall dark and handsome. Feuilly, deciding he liked tall dark and handsome quite a lot, slipped in front of him and caught barstool’s friend’s fist mid punch, twisted it backwards and elbowed him in the face. Tall dark and handsome turned to stare at him in shock.

“Hi, I’m your bl-“

“Hey! You two! Don’t go starting fights in my pub!”

Feuilly turned around, and barstool guy was passed out in a puddle of his own vomit on the bar and his friend was bleeding gently and trying to get up, currently bent half mast and hugging a wall as he tried to manoeuvre himself upright. Feuilly put his palm on the top of his head and pushed down gently, and the guy belly flopped. Tall dark and handsome snorted inelegantly and Feuilly grinned.

The bartender had got out from behind the bar and was pointing at the exit, before he pushed them towards it. “Get the hell out of here now, and stay out!”

Feuilly followed tall dark and handsome out, yelling over his shoulder “It’s a crappy pub anyway!”

Tall dark and handsome turned and grinned at him, a soft look in his eyes. “Hi. I’m Bahorel.”

“Feuilly. Your blind date.”

“Nice to meet you, Feuilly. It seems our date establishment has cancelled on us, would you care to accompany me to somewhere more high class?”

Feuilly grinned and offered his elbow. “It would be my honour.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Combeferre walked in to see someone inelegantly flopping off of the bar, leaving behind a small puddle of vomit. Delightful. He looked around to see if Feuilly had turned up yet, and saw someone at the other end of the bar, with their hair shining red under the soft lights, wearing a blue scarf. He grinned, and thanked Enjolras for his good selection. He walked up to the guy and put his hand gently on his shoulder, leaning forwards to say “Hi, are you here for a blind date?”

Courfeyrac turned around to look Combeferre in the eyes, and had a brief moment of panic that his blind date was possibly _the hottest person he’d ever seen_. Jehan was getting so many thank you flowers for this. Jehan had said ‘sort of’ his type, Courfeyrac internally scoffed. Externally, he had yet to actually say anything, and was extremely distracted by the way the guy’s beard highlighted his cheekbones and he awkwardly brought his hand up to push back his hair as Courfeyrac still didn’t say anything. On the other hand, he looked just as stunned as Courfeyrac, so he was counting it as a win.

Combeferre was going to punch Enjolras directly in the face. This really wasn’t fair, his first try at dating this year and it’s with someone hotter than the surface of the sun. He knew he’d been staring but wasn’t quite sure how long they’d been facing off for. The bartender might have been standing behind them, but again he wasn’t sure because this guy – Feuilly –‘s eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He opened his mouth to ask the question again, then thought about kissing him and his mind went offline again.

“Uh. Hi.” Courfeyrac said. “You can call me Courfeyrac.”

Combeferre frowned. But he thought, Feuilly...? Then again, Enjolras hadn’t told him a first name, or even specified whether it was a first or a last name, so he decided to take what he could get. “I’m Combeferre.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and licked his lips, then watched as Combeferre tracked the movement, his eyes dark. He thought this guy was called Bahorel, but Jehan hadn’t given a full name, and even though Combeferre was a really strange first name, Courfeyrac was willing to overlook it for uh, Mr Beardy McHot in front of him.

Combeferre smiled at him, (Courfeyrac took a second to thank his good fortune) and angled his head towards a table in the corner. “Should we go and sit? We can order food from there, and I’d like to hear about what you do. I’ve heard you volunteer?”

Courfeyrac followed him to the table, and seemed to light up at the mention of volunteering. “Yeah, I just joined this group called Les Amis de l’ABC, and-“

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enjolras picked up his ringing phone, seeing Feuilly’s number he grinned. “Hi Feuilly! How was your date?!”

Through the line, Feuilly laughed ecstatically. “Bahorel is amazing! We might have been kicked out of the first pub but-“

“Hold on.” Enjolras frowned, and Grantaire, watching him closely and listening in to the conversation, had realisation dawning on his face.

“Bahorel? I set you up with Combeferre.”

“Uh, nie? I got to the pub and a tall gorgeous bearded guy was there getting into a fight over someone using slurs, so I helped out, we got kicked out and he asked if I was there for a blind date. I didn’t actually get his name until the end of the evening, when he gave me his number.”

“You... What?”

“It went really well! We’re going for coffee tomorrow, thank you Enjolras!”

“Wait, okay. Did he not react to your name at all? If he was on a blind date he must have been set up with someone else.”

“He said ‘Feuilly Courfeyrac? Weird.’ Then he talked about his weird French name, and I didn’t tell him my full unpronounceable Polish name because I had to go but-“

“Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac was also going on a date today. Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Oh my god.”

“What?”

Grantaire, sitting next to Enjolras on the sofa was laughing, and had been laughing since Feuilly mentioned Bahorel. He took the phone from Enjolras, and spoke to Feuilly. “Hey Feuilly, it’s Grantaire here. You know at the Les Amis meetings, there’s the tall dark guy who’s always with Enjolras? Well that’s Combeferre, and that’s who Enjolras tried to set you up with. Bahorel is a guy who boxes at the same place as me, and is really good friends with Jehan, who probably set up him and Courfeyrac, who is small and kind of ginger- same as you!”

Enjolras had a dawning expression of horror, and he whispered to Grantaire, “Courfeyrac joined Les Amis last week and he’s perfect. Him and Combeferre could absolutely take me. I’m doomed.”

Grantaire grinned. “But hey, you and Bahorel are perfect for each other, ask about his dogs some time.”

Feuilly, from the other side of the phone line, said, “This is like a story. My babcia is not going to believe this. Thank you anyway, and I hope I will get to meet Combeferre at some point!”

Enjolras took the phone back off of Grantaire. “Go get some sleep, Feuilly, and bring Bahorel to the next Les Amis meeting!” Feuilly laughed through the phone and hung up without saying goodbye.

Enjolras stared blankly at his phone. “How the fuck did I manage that?”

Grantaire grinned at him. “Honestly, I have no idea, but Feuilly and Bahorel will work a lot better than Combeferre and Feuilly. I mean Feuilly and Bahorel can go and beat each other up, but because it’s them, it’s romantic.”

Enjolras snorted, and lifted the phone again, dialling Combeferre’s number.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Combeferre lifted his mouth off of Courfeyrac’s neck to kiss him on the mouth again, his hand disentangling from Courfeyrac’s hair to skim his fingers along the beard burn he’d left there. Courfeyrac liked the beard, it was staying. Courfeyrac’s left leg was semi-wrapped around Combeferre’s body as his other hand held him up by the small of his back. Courfeyrac pulled away and glanced around the deserted street. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to be doing this?”

Combeferre raised his eyebrow. “Are you inviting me up?”

Courfeyrac grinned. “Forgive me, but I’m not a first date kind of guy. Second, if you’re lucky and third, it’s a sure thing.”

Combeferre stroked his fingers down the side of Courfeyrac’s face again, pulling his chin up for one last gentle kiss on the lips. Courfeyrac internally sighed and knew that Combeferre was definitely getting it on the second date. Just as Courfeyrac’s resolve was weakening and he was considering pulling Combeferre upstairs regardless, Combeferre’s phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the number, and smiled.

“It’s the guy who set me up, do you mind?” Courfeyrac shook his head and smiled, wondering whether Jehan ever said he got Bahorel's number.

“Hi Enjolras!”

What? The Les Amis guy? Courfeyrac watched Combeferre’s face, and could hear someone frantically talking on the phone with the sounds of someone laughing in the background.

“Jehan.”

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrow.

“Feuilly?”

Courfeyrac frowned slightly. He knew a Feuilly, they had been in the same English classes, and they had bonded over having a language no one speaks as their first language; Feuilly had Polish and Courfeyrac had Hawaiian, with a bit of Pidgin for good measure.

“Oh my god. Enjolras, Courfeyrac is perfect,” Courfeyrac felt a blush overtake his face, “and I know Bahorel. We go to the same gym, from what you’ve said of Feuilly, they’re perfect for each other.” Coufeyrac frowned. He was meant to be set up with Bahorel, who had accidentally gone on a date with Feuilly, who had been set up with Combeferre, who had gone on a date with him. Neat.

“Enjolras. Goodbye.”

He hung up and Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. “You thought I was called Courfeyrac Feuilly?”

Combeferre ginned. “You thought I was called Combeferre Bahorel.”

“What is your real name?”

“Surprisingly, worse than that. You won’t find that out until at least the fifth date.”

“You’re willing to have sex on the first but I don’t get your name until the fifth?!”

“My name is definitely a deal breaker. Absolutely hideous, kills the mood in a second flat.”

Courfeyrac laughed at him. “I’m not sure anything you do could kill the mood. But Just so you feel bad about not telling me your name, my name is Kahikina Courfeyrac. It’s Hawaiian, but my surname is French.”

Combeferre looked him in the eyes for a beat, before he said “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s difficult to pronounce, so I don’t use it.”

“Maybe you could tell me about it tomorrow, over coffee?”

Courfeyrac grinned. “Smooth. But yes, definitely. Put your number in my phone and I’ll see you then.”  


 

 

 

 

 

Four weeks later, Feuilly and Bahorel lay together on Bahorel’s bed. Feuilly, considering all that Bahorel had come to mean to him in such a short time, decided to tell him something nearly no one else knew.

“My name is Tymoteusz.”

“What?”

“It’s Polish, I am Tymoteusz Ihorevich Feuilly. I prefer Feuilly, though.”

Bahorel raised himself onto his elbows and stared at Feuilly.

“Then why the fuck did I think you were called Courfeyrac?”

**Author's Note:**

> nie - polish for 'no'  
> babcia - polish for 'grandma'  
> Tymoteusz means 'honour god' and is basically. timothy. but polish. tbh i'd rather be called feuilly too.
> 
> my headcanon is that Feuilly was born in Poland, his mother (and grandma) are polish, but his father is Russian, hence the Russian patronymic 'Ihorevich' from the Russian name Ihor, pronounced 'ee-hor' (pls also imagine feuilly with a polish accent. thank u for your service.)
> 
> Kahikina means 'the arrival' (ask me about that some other time lmao) obvs courfeyrac is hawaiian, and I got the name off a baby names website. because he is a baby. (i nearly used the name keikilani meaning heaven's child)
> 
> the art will also be posted on tumblr.. soon...


End file.
